Salvage
by Parrin
Summary: Set after 3x07. The ghosts from the other side have returned to Mystic Falls, and desperate to find a means of killing Klaus to free Stefan from his compulsion, Damon is eager to follow deceased werewolf Mason into the Lockwood Cellar. However, when trouble inevitably finds him, Damon is left with no choice but to ask for help from the people he can only hope still care about him.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is owned, only borrowed.

 **Summary:** Set after 3x07. The ghosts from the other side have returned to Mystic Falls and desperate to find a means of killing Klaus to free Stefan from his compulsion, Damon is eager to follow deceased werewolf Mason into the Lockwood Cellar. However, when trouble inevitably finds him, Damon is left with no choice but to ask for help from the people he can only hope still care about him.

Hurt!Damon. Delena if you squint. Damon and Alaric friendship.

 **Warnings:** Moderately graphic description of injury.

Chapter 1

"God, I need new furniture." Alaric shook his head, surveying his apartment as he carelessly tossed his keys into the onto the short, round stand just beside the front door. He entered the residence without so much as a glance back, instead reaching blindly for the light switch, dirtied from use.

Though spacious as it was, the single room living space was admittedly drab. The dimming light of the evening leaked in from two thin windows on the far wall, beneath which was his bed, sitting squarely with sheets cast haphazardly on top. Strolling past his bench press, his old leather couch, and the tiny coffee table just beside, the teacher made his way to the kitchen, deep brown eyes focused on the fridge, plain save a single magnet stuck in the center of the freezer section above. A small round button colored black with the bold red words _Bite Me_ written across, Alaric's eyes glazed over it for just a passing moment before he opened the door to the refrigerator.

"Of course." The teacher muttered to himself, ruefully eyeing the shelves, empty save a beer bottle, opened and half drunk, though not his.

 _Damon._

Alaric's eye twitched, and with an expression only just shy of a scowl, he reached into the fridge to grab the bottle. Shaking his head, Alaric stood to his full height again, turning toward the kitchen island where the sink was installed. The stainless steel walls of the basin were dry, though as Alaric leaned on the counter, watching with dull satisfaction as he poured the remaining contents of Damon's beer down the drain, small amber droplets collected within their confines, disrupting the immaculate nature of the surface.

"Passive aggressive." Alaric rolled his eyes at himself, though still he moved to throw away the bottle, eliminate the evidence that he'd ever at any time invited Damon into his apartment.

It had been a gesture of trust when Alaric had uttered the words and allowed the vampire entry into his home. It had only been to share a drink, though the act had been something of a validation of their friendship. The teacher wrinkled his nose at the thought. For, now he could now only add the action to his ever-growing list of regrets.

He and Damon were not friends anymore. They couldn't be, after all Damon killed him, broken his neck without so much as batting an eye. Though, Alaric supposed that the logic was there. He had been wearing his eternity ring, and Damon was a supernatural being, thus truly the vampire had not _killed_ him. Perhaps then it had been Damon's abuse of the knowledge that Alaric would come back, or the assumption that he would be inevitably forgiven, that irritated the teacher the most. Lost in thought, Alaric found that his face had settled into a deep frown, and upon becoming aware of himself, he shook his head to banish the memory.

 _No point in dwelling on other people's shortcomings,_ Alaric thought to himself, moving away from the sink once more.

Besides, it was not as if he had nothing else to do. Despite all the responsibilities that came with being involved with vampires, Alaric was still a history teacher at Mystic Falls High School, and just like any other teacher, he had papers to grade.

Night had fallen by the time Alaric had settled onto his couch, red pen in hand and his students' historical essays stacked high on the coffee table before him. Paper after paper Alaric graded, making long marks to form letter grades on the title pages to mark the completion of each, and the teacher came to appreciate the monotony of the action. He'd almost wanted to believe himself an exception, but Elena Gilbert had been right in her statement that amidst it all, a bit of normality was necessary to hold on to any sanity left in a town overrun by vampires, werewolves, and recently Klaus' growing army of hybrids.

"Civil War in Mystic Falls," Alaric read to himself, taking a new paper into his hands.

Rubbing his eyes, he began to read.

 _Taking place during the years 1861-1865, the Civil War was…_

Alaric's phone began buzzing in his pocket. Never taking his eyes off the page, Alaric reached into the pocket in his jeans, groping idly for the smooth surface of the device, before extracting it and squinting at the screen where, in bright white letters, a caller ID was displayed.

 _Damon Salvatore._

The teacher nearly laughed out loud.

"Wow." The word came out strained, tight in Alaric's disgust, and he cast the phone beside him without a second thought.

When the buzzing ceased at last, the teacher lazily rolled his eyes. Damon had tried earlier that day to make amends, and Alaric had almost found amusement in the vampire's inability to apologize. However, the feeling had never quite turned to sympathy, rather anger, as it seemed Damon was too prideful to even utter the words "I'm sorry." Though, it hadn't mattered anyway, for then it hadn't been long before Mason Lockwood had joined them, telling of a weapon in the old Lockwood cellar capable of killing Klaus. As Mason's ghost had explained, Alaric only quietly sipped his drink, listening. Damon had been right to be wary. After all, he had tortured and killed Mason. But, as the vampire had nodded his agreement to meet later on, Alaric couldn't help but have a slight bit of worry. He was angry at Damon, that was for sure, and he was certain that the vampire could take care of himself, but in his desperation to free Stefan from Klaus' compulsion, Alaric reasoned that Damon might be inclined to act recklessly in order to get his brother back.

The buzzing had since begun again, the blue glow of his phone illuminating the tan cushions of the couch where he'd previously tossed the device. Narrowing his eyes just a fraction, Alaric reached again for the phone to read the screen again. A pointless action, as proven, for Alaric needed not read the name to know what was displayed.

 _Damon Salvatore._

Again, the teacher shook his head, though the bitterness behind the action had diminished, replaced instead by an edge of concern. It was late now. Late enough that Alaric guessed that many of his students were sleeping. Though, surely that could not have been an indication of trouble, especially for a vampire, let alone a vampire like Damon who had little regard for basic boundaries. Unmoving, Alaric simply stared at his phone, nestled in his palm, until at last it grew still again.

The teacher had received messages earlier that night from Elena, confirming that while Bonnie had not been able to destroy the talisman, each of the ghosts that had returned to Mystic Falls had vanished, presumably sent back to "the other side". Further, Alaric had gotten a call when she'd returned home, and despite her efforts to hide it, he had detected the fatigue in her voice as she'd bid him goodnight. Though, he hadn't heard anything from Damon since he'd seen him at the bar. The teacher looked down at his phone again.

 _2 missed calls from Damon Salvatore._

Perhaps this was the vampire calling to tell him about the weapon he'd found. Or maybe there was another way to help Stefan. Alaric felt his brow crease, it was doubtful. The vampire could be trying to reach out again, though that seemed even less likely. Damon was never eager to lose a friend, for they numbered pitifully few, though the vampire was not one to beg.

"God damn it." Alaric muttered, pressing hard on the keypad as he redialed Damon's number.

 **A/N:**

 ***** Slithers from abyss*

Why reader, have you ventured to my dwelling? You have come here searching for something, yes? Very well, but I must tell you, I'm afraid, that nothing is for free.

*cackles maniacally*

For an alert, I shall grant you passage through my pit, I fear that you shall not survive its depths without a guide. For a favorite, I can promise a glimpse into the future, a taste of what fortune or misery await. For a review, you shall have the most valuable gift of them all. Come forth and I may show you what you seek, another chapter for you, my dear. But watch your step, and do not stray. I know not what monsters lurk nearby, for they are only my creations.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is owned, only borrowed.

 **Summary:** Set after 3x07. The ghosts from the other side have returned to Mystic Falls and desperate to find a means of killing Klaus to free Stefan from his compulsion, Damon is eager to follow deceased werewolf Mason into the Lockwood Cellar. However, when trouble inevitably finds him, Damon is left with no choice but to ask for help from the people he can only hope still care about him.

Hurt!Damon. Delena if you squint. Damon and Alaric friendship.

 **Warnings:** Moderately graphic description of injury.

Chapter 2

The dial tones seemed even slower than usual to Alaric, who sat stiffly on his couch, phone pressed to his ear.

"I swear to God, this had better be good."

The teacher twisted his free hand, running his thumb over his ring while he waited for an answer. He studied it, the dark color of the gem intricately engraved and smoothly polished so it glinted, catching the light with every move he made.

When the dial tones ceased at last, Alaric almost believed that he'd been sent to voicemail, though when the familiar automated instructions to leave a message never came, the teacher squinted, confused. Bringing the phone away from his ear, he saw the stopwatch, seconds increasing to signify that the call had indeed gone through.

"Damon?"

Alaric strained, listening for a sound from the other end. A part of him believed that the call had somehow been disconnected, though something simply didn't feel right. For, it was not completely silent on Damon's end as it should have been had that been the case. It was almost as if he could hear something, someone's labored breath.

"Damon?" Alaric asked again, louder now, stifled urgency creeping into his voice.

The teacher was on his feet now, pressing his phone roughly into his ear as if it would bring him some form of confirmation that he was wrong, and everything was okay after all.

"…Ric?"

The teacher's stomach dropped at the strain in the vampire's voice.

"Damon? What's going on?"

A pause, Alaric listened closely to hushed moans only barely received.

"Need help… please…"

Not even a shadow of a doubt remained in Alaric's mind that something was indeed amiss, and with his realization he wasted no time in grabbing his coat and heading to his car with keys ready in his hand.

"Just hold on. Are you still at the Lockwood Cellar?"

Alaric balanced his cell on his shoulder as he started the car.

"Yes." Damon's tone was ragged, and had Alaric had the bearings to process it, he might have winced at the sound.

"Don't worry buddy, I'm on my way. Just hang on."

And with that Alaric was tearing down the road, speeding with reckless abandon. For, he had but one thing on his mind, a single task at hand: get to Damon.

 **A/N:** Ah, my dear reader. I see you are undeterred, and for this I must ask you, is it courage or foolishness that keeps you here? Perhaps both? Answer only if you dare, for I am but a humble author with a bargain to keep. Follow me if you still wish it, to where my lair awaits. For your follows and favorites and reviews I have more chapters for you. Grant me these that which I seek, and I can promise that they shall be yours.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is owned, only borrowed.

 **Summary:** Set after 3x07. The ghosts from the other side have returned to Mystic Falls and desperate to find a means of killing Klaus to free Stefan from his compulsion, Damon is eager to follow deceased werewolf Mason into the Lockwood Cellar. However, when trouble inevitably finds him, Damon is left with no choice but to ask for help from the people he can only hope still care about him.

Hurt!Damon. Delena if you squint. Damon and Alaric friendship.

 **Warnings:** Moderately graphic description of injury.

Chapter 3

Rain had since begun to fall, tapping persistently on the flats of oak leaves, before sliding down in gentle droplets to soften the soil beneath the trees. Lost to the patter of the rain, Alaric's breath was inaudible as he ran toward the dilapidated brick structure he knew to be the old Lockwood cellar. The stone was dark, lined with a layer of dark green moss, nearly black, stuck to the rock thickly as gum does adhere stubbornly to sneakers. Mud, cold and wet, further weighted Alaric's boots as he ran, small flecks flying every which way with every rise of his heel.

"Damon?" Alaric called, skipping down the stairs.

The cellar was dark and smelled of mold, though the teacher could hardly notice, pace never faltering as he navigated the tunnels. Stumbling through the dark, Alaric cursed himself for neglecting to bring his flashlight, rather at the time he'd deemed it more important to arm himself with his crossbow.

 _Much good it will do if I can't even see._ Alaric thought distastefully.

"Salvatore?" Alaric's voice was loud and scraping, echoing through the passage in deafening waves.

Gripping his weapon in his hand, the teacher slowed his pace and quieted his step, listening. No voice emanated from the passage to guide him, and the teacher nearly had his phone in his hand again when a crash came from deeper within the cellar, followed by a shallow moan, hardly but a whisper.

Moving again, his pace urgent once more, Alaric came upon a brick wall with a hole savagely beaten into the brick.

"Damon are you in here?"

Alaric thrust his head through the gap, leaning in to catch a sign. The cave was completely dark, though still the teacher stepped through. He needed not see to know that this was where he would find the vampire. For, it was here that the air smelled so thickly of blood, the odor greeting him in waves stronger and stronger as he neared the source.

 **A/N:** Like fodder for my soul, your reviews, favorites, and follows have sustained me. Though, come the dimming of my torch, I'm afraid I must have more. In exchange for another chapter, it is only fair.

*grins toothily*

We are getting farther along this darkening path, and it is becoming difficult to see the sun. If you still wish it, you may follow, but be warned. Past this point, there is no turning back. Thus, I say to you, leave now or forever hold your peace.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is owned, only borrowed.

 **Summary:** Set after 3x07. The ghosts from the other side have returned to Mystic Falls and desperate to find a means of killing Klaus to free Stefan from his compulsion, Damon is eager to follow deceased werewolf Mason into the Lockwood Cellar. However, when trouble inevitably finds him, Damon is left with no choice but to ask for help from the people he can only hope still care about him.

Hurt!Damon. Delena if you squint. Damon and Alaric friendship.

 **Warnings:** Moderately graphic description of injury.

Chapter 4

By only the blue glow of his cell phone, achingly bright in the complete darkness of the cave, the teacher looked over Damon, unconscious. Empathy, shock, fear, each emotion that crossed him warred with the others for dominance, ultimately translating into a look utterly focused. Drawing in a breath to prepare, Alaric immediately set to work.

The dark haired vampire was slumped forward, kept standing only by the four long stakes running through him, drawing forth enough blood that as Alaric broke off the ends to allow Damon to fall heavily to the floor, the teacher was sure he could hear a quiet slosh as the vampire's knees made contact. As morbid as it was, the teacher was not naïve enough to believe that the substance pooled under Damon could be anything other than blood.

"Hey," Alaric crouched beside Damon's prone form, still as he lay on his side. "Damon, wake up."

Truly Alaric could not have expected a response, for even if the vampire had been conscious, he doubted that he'd have the strength even to speak.

"Come on, man." Alaric winced as he pulled out the stakes still embedded in the other's abdomen. "We've got to go."

The vampire was unresponsive as Alaric rolled him gently onto his back. Clasping his hands under his chin, the teacher heaved a sigh, unsure. There was a fleeting feeling of guilt within the man at the realization that given the tightness of the cave's passage, he could not get Damon out of here by himself, not when the vampire was in this condition, and especially not in the dark. The teacher bit the inside of his cheek, ruefully, apologetically. He would have to rouse Damon.

"Hey, Damon." Alaric shook Damon's shoulder gently with the pads of his fingers, though the movement elicited no response.

"Damon." Alaric repeated, louder this time.

 _He needs blood,_ the teacher thought to himself, and he cast his gaze around in vain as if there could have been a blood bag nearby.

"Nothing is ever easy with you is it?" Alaric's eyes lingered on the wounds in Damon's torso while with his hands he fumbled around in the dark until his fingers found a stone just sharp enough to cut flesh.

Without so much as a second thought, Alaric pressed the point into the flesh of his palm, wincing as he drew a painful line on his hand from which appeared the crimson substance that Damon so needed. Carefully edging closer, Alaric gently lifted Damon's head with his uninjured hand, while drifting the other to his ashen lips.

"Come on, Damon. Drink it."

Alaric had not seen the darkened veins appearing under the vampire's eyes, rather he'd only felt the sting of fangs burying into his flesh as instinct moved Damon to bite down, a shaky hand moving weakly upward to hold Alaric's in place. The teacher let him drink for only as long as he dared, before he pulled away, relaxing Damon's head to the floor once more.

"Thank you." Damon's voice sounded like gravel.

"Don't mention it." Alaric said, rising to his full height, eyes never leaving Damon's motionless face. "Are you ready to go?"

Damon wheezed, "No, I think I'll just hang out here for a while." He paused before adding, "Hurts when I move."

The vampire broke into a coughing fit, and the ragged shutter of air through his chest, sounding nearly hollow, filled the cave. "Think my lung is punctured."

"Hey don't worry about it, I'm going to get you out of here." Alaric said, reaching down to take Damon by the shoulders. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

As slowly and gently as he could, Alaric pulled Damon up to meet him in a standing position. At the slightest motion, Damon's body immediately protested and he couldn't suppress a hiss, a whistle through his gritted teeth.

"A couple of stakes is all it takes to down the notorious Damon Salvatore?" Alaric teased, but his own voice seemed foreign to him. For, even he was hardly listening his own words as he pulled Damon's arm over his shoulder.

Had it not been for Alaric's hand, firm around his torso, Damon surely would have collapsed again, for at the sudden motion of being brought to his feet, the vampire could feel his knees weakening and his head lightening, a wave of nausea washed over him. Distantly, Damon could hear Alaric's voice, he was sure that the teacher was speaking to him, though the words seemed to run together, utterly indiscernible . However, even with eyes nearly closed, Damon could make out that they were moving, and he drew the conclusion that the other was offering him some sort of encouragement, as if tender words might somehow alleviate the pain coursing mercilessly through his body.

Despite Damon's groans, growing progressively louder as he was quickly losing his ability to stifle them, Alaric did not allow him to rest until they had reached his car, awaiting them in the lot where he'd left it.

"The sooner we get back, the sooner we can get some blood in you." Alaric had repeated, as much a reassurance to himself as it was intended to the injured vampire.

Keeping Damon balanced with one hand, Alaric used the other to toss his crossbow quickly into the back seat of his SUV. The night had grown considerably colder, though despite the feel of his socks, soaked through now, cold and wet against the soles of his feet, the teacher did not seem to notice.

"Ric…" Damon's head lolled forward, and Alaric knew that he was struggling to stay awake. "I need a minute."

Alaric only nodded, never ceasing his movements as he prepared the car for his friend. The vampire was seeing spots now, and nearly all of the feeling in his body had vanished save the four puncture wounds in his torso, smarting so painfully that Damon was nearly doubled over.

"I'm almost done, buddy. Don't worry."

Alaric had the door open on the passenger's side and was pulling up the lever on the side of the seat so that the back rest was laid flat.

"Alright, Damon. Let's go." The teacher shifted the vampire in his arms and eased him into the seat, taking care to lay him just centered so that he might extend his legs meanwhile keeping pressure off of his back. Quickly drawing the seatbelt across Damon's waist, Alaric wasted no time closing the car door and getting in on his own side.

In his absence, the inside of the vehicle had grown cold, and upon starting the ignition, Alaric began fiddling with the knobs on the dashboard, rubbing his hands together when it seemed that the heater was not working fast enough. To his right, the teacher could see Damon lying still in his seat, eyes closed. The vampire's face was twisted with pain, and whether it was due to the briskness of the night air or merely a catastrophic loss of blood Alaric could not tell, though Damon had begun to shiver so violently that the teacher feared that he would shift to a position where the seatbelt would aggravate his injuries.

"Damon." Alaric knew his voice was falling on deaf ears.

Nodding resolutely, Alaric then shrugged off his jacket, though damp on the outside, still warm on the inside from his wearing it. As he draped the jacket gently over Damon's upper body, Alaric once more looked his friend over. Blood still oozed from the punctures in his abdomen, a deep crimson stain spreading over a once stark white shirt as the fabric absorbed it.

"Just hang on, I'm going to take care of this." Alaric's voice was not hushed, though still Damon did not stir beside him, and even as the car began moving, pulling away from the wood, still the vampire did not rise.

 **A/N:** I must admit, I am surprised you have lasted this long.

*Points crooked finger into the distance*

But, the worst is not yet behind us. Just ahead lies a bridge, and to cross it, a debt must be paid. A toll of sorts. A favorite, a follow, a review, you must pay the keeper. Though, be warned. He who collects your payment has not a kind heart. Should you fail to meet his bargain, you shall meet a fate most unpleasant.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is owned, only borrowed.

 **Summary:** Set after 3x07. The ghosts from the other side have returned to Mystic Falls and desperate to find a means of killing Klaus to free Stefan from his compulsion, Damon is eager to follow deceased werewolf Mason into the Lockwood Cellar. However, when trouble inevitably finds him, Damon is left with no choice but to ask for help from the people he can only hope still care about him.

Hurt!Damon. Delena if you squint. Damon and Alaric friendship.

 **Warnings:** Moderately graphic description of injury.

Chapter 5

Ultimately, it hadn't been Alaric's swerving around each corner along his route, rather the immense pain radiating from his abdomen, that brought Damon to awareness. Too weak even to shift, the vampire did not attempt to rise to see out of the window and get his bearings, rather he simply rolled his head to the side where he was grateful to find Alaric, focused on the road though undoubtedly aware that he had risen.

"How does it feel?" the teacher asked him, anxiously running his thumbs back and forth over the smooth surface of the steering wheel as he drove.

Damon allowed a pause before he answered, running the tip of his tongue over his chapped lips. "Like someone dropped a flaming torch in me and sifted through my guts trying to get it out."

"Colorful."

Had it not been for the pain, Damon might have smirked at Alaric's wince. Though in his utter helplessness, his mild amusement came out instead as a tired wheeze.

"What can I say?" the vampire forced his words out, each syllable punctuated by a groan. "Got a knack for imagery."

"Sure you do." Alaric tilted his head so he could see the vampire out of the corner of his eye.

Despite the sweat pouring down the sides of his ashen face, and further the heavy jacket cast over him, still Damon shivered, periodic convulsions that brought his teeth together in short clicks. The vampire did not speak again for the remainder of the drive, instead allowing his eyes to drift closed once more. However, it was not sleep that Damon found. Rather it was only torment that embraced him in his exhausted and pained state. The blackness of oblivion eluded him and gone with it was the promise of respite.

"Come on, Damon. It's time to get up."

Alaric's voice tore Damon from his stupor, and distant blue eyes shot open to meet the teacher. Alaric was standing to his right now, and the passenger's side door was ajar.

"Time already, huh?" Damon heaved a sigh, placing hands on the edge of his seat as he prepared to rise.

With a hiss, the vampire forced himself to a sitting position, and at his need then to pause, Damon cursed himself. His utter helplessness.

"Here, let me help you." Alaric edged closer to his friend, though stopped before making contact as if to ask permission.

At his gesture, the teacher was met by the other's unforgiving glare, though when the vampire made no further demonstration of protest, Alaric once more wrapped his arm around Damon's waist and pulled him from the car.

 _He must really be in a bad way,_ Alaric thought as he steadied his friend.

Moving slowly and carefully, Alaric helped Damon walk a few steps forward to get clear of the car door before with a fluid motion he threw it closed behind him.

"Slow and easy, now." Alaric spoke gently as he began forward again, treading lightly with Damon over the path that led to his apartment.

By the time Alaric had reached the door to his loft, keys ready in hand, Damon's shallow inhales had become ragged pants, grating as though each breath scraped the walls of his lungs.

"Oww…" Damon complained as the teacher propped him against the doorframe, freeing his hands to work the lock.

"Almost there."

Leaving Damon propped just outside, the teacher darted inside the apartment to make ready for the injured vampire. He headed straight for the living area.

With a swift, sweeping motion Alaric pushed the stack of graded essays to the floor where they landed scattered, though at their disarray the teacher hardly spared a glance. For, at the sound of Damon's body, heavy against the door frame, sliding to the ground as the vampire could no longer hold himself up, Alaric had little thought for anything but the sheer worry taking hold of him.

"Damon, you still with me?" Alaric called over his shoulder, rearranging the pillows on the couch, where he intended to put Damon.

At the lack of response from the vampire, the teacher's gaze returned to the door, where from his angle, he could only see the toe of Damon's boot poking just through the entrance. Alaric's step was hurried as he moved toward his friend, his hands opened and elbows bent in preparation to heave the vampire up once more. Just outside, Damon was slumped against the frame, his head turned to the side so that his chin nearly rested on his shoulder. Dark mussed hair was cast over his closed eyes, each strand a sharp contrast from the light skin of his face, ever paling.

At the look of the vampire, unconscious at his feet, Alaric uttered no words, rather instead he simply took him by the shoulders and dragged him into the apartment, quickly though careful not to jostle him.

"God, you're heavy." Alaric puffed under his breath, his face reddened with surprise.

Damon was not a large man, not too tall, he seemed an appropriate height for a man of 1864. Though despite his slender build, the vampire was built solidly to say the least, and it was with great effort that Alaric maneuvered him to the couch, settling him onto it with a sigh. Drawing back, Alaric closed the door of the loft, unconsciously twisting the lock out of habit, before he surveyed the vampire, unmoving where he lay. The wounds on his abdomen had begun to bleed again, and as Alaric approached Damon, he winced at the loss of his couch.

For a brief moment of respite, Alaric sat down heavily on the coffee table just near Damon's head. Rubbing his hands through light brown hair, nearly sandy, the teacher felt the sting of exhaustion just beginning to burn beneath his eyelids, making itself known for the teacher's momentary lack of preoccupation.

 _What time is it?_ Alaric wondered to himself, yawning as he looked at the time on his phone.

5:30 a.m.

Alaric groaned. Normally, by now, he would have been just waking, perhaps even stumbling to the kitchen toward his coffee maker, with palm pressed to his brow to shield his eyes from the harshness of the artificial light he'd ruefully summoned with the flip of a switch.

For a fleeting moment, the teacher wondered if he should leave a message for the school that he wouldn't be coming in today. Certainly he would not be leaving Damon alone to fend for himself. Alaric opened the dial pad and nearly began tapping the numbers that would connect him with the front office, though the pad of his thumb never did find the 'talk' button. For, at just that last moment, Alaric found himself focused instead on the recent callers list, where just below Damon's, Elena Gilbert's name was listed. Suddenly, Alaric felt pressed. He knew that inevitably the girl would find out about Damon's condition. However, unsure of whether or not he wanted to trouble her just yet, at 5:30 in the morning no less, Alaric felt torn. There was guilt then, the teacher felt it in his chest, clawing its way up to settle thickly in the back of his throat. Guilt that with everything going on he would consider adding another thing for Elena to worry about. She was only a child.

 _But she's no ordinary child._ Alaric reasoned, imagining then how angry she would be if he did leave her out of the loop.

Alaric imagined her face, her lips drawn tightly and her cheeks burning red as she would rant, "He's my friend! How could you not tell me?"

Nearly chuckling, the teacher shook the image out of his head. He would not put himself through that, for Elena's will was nearly as strong as Damon's. Though her temper was milder, Alaric never did underestimate the girl's capacity to raise Hell.

Alaric grumbled as he dialed Elena's cell.

 **A/N:** Do you hear them, dear reader? The monsters within these depths? They are restless, you see. For, down here within this darkness they starve. It is flesh they crave, for their own has rotted away. Thus, again I must remind you to stay near. We have bargained my chapters for your ever precious reviews, favorites, and follows, and nothing more. Should they come along, I'm afraid I will not save you.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is owned, only borrowed.

 **Summary:** Set after 3x07. The ghosts from the other side have returned to Mystic Falls and desperate to find a means of killing Klaus to free Stefan from his compulsion, Damon is eager to follow deceased werewolf Mason into the Lockwood Cellar. However, when trouble inevitably finds him, Damon is left with no choice but to ask for help from the people he can only hope still care about him.

Hurt!Damon. Delena if you squint. Damon and Alaric friendship.

 **Warnings:** Moderately graphic description of injury.

Chapter 6

"Hello?" Elena's voice was soft, clouded with drowsiness, as she held her phone to her ear.

"Hey, Elena. It's Ric."

"Ric? What's up? What time is it?" Alaric could hear her shuffling through the phone as she shifted to sit up on her bed.

"I know it's early, but I need your help with something." Alaric's eyes fell to rest on Damon.

"Sure, Alaric. What's going on?" Elena's voice became clear as she forced herself up, already preparing for whatever her friend may ask of her.

"I need you to bring some blood bags over to the loft." The teacher said seriously.

"Bring what? Blood bags?" the girl's tone had sharpened with worry. "Why?"

The girl allowed a pause, "Alaric what's happening?"

"Damon's hurt. Don't worry, I have him here with me, but he needs blood. I can't leave him alone right now."

Elena's mind was racing, "I'm on my way over." The girl was already pulling on a pair of jeans. "I don't have any blood at my house, but there is some in your apartment."

Alaric frowned, preparing to speak, but Elena was quicker.

"Damon put a cooler in your pantry a while back." Elena crept past Jeremy's room, keys in hand.

"Are you sure?" Alaric asked, but the man was already moving toward the pantry.

Throwing the light switch upward, the teacher looked around the walk-in pantry, lined with painted white wooden shelves, each as empty as any. Alaric could scarcely remember the last time he'd stocked this place, rather with a lifestyle like his, such gestures of normality were pitifully rare.

"I don't see anyth-" Alaric stopped as he spotted a small blue cooler shoved into the far corner of the little room. In a single stride, the teacher was crouched beside it, running his hands over the smooth white lid in his search for the handle.

Elena took his silence as confirmation that he'd located the cooler. "I'm on my way. I'll see you soon." she said when her foot was out the door.

"We'll be waiting." Alaric's tone was idle as his focus was instead on the stock of blood before him.

He might have wondered when Damon had had the opportunity to sneak the cooler into his pantry, let alone periodically fill it with ice, but with the vampire still unconscious and bleeding on his couch, Alaric only made a note to consider it later. Right now, he needed to help his friend.

Alaric made his way back over to Damon, the cooler heavy in his left hand, tilting his shoulders downward to accommodate its weight. Setting it between his ankles, Alaric, once more, sat down on the coffee table beside Damon before tearing the first bag open so that the tube at the top stuck up like a straw.

"Come on, Damon." Alaric gently slid his forearm under Damon's back, supporting his head with the crook of his arm as he held the bag to the vampire's lips. Even at the scent of the blood, which despite his unconscious state Damon could undoubtedly detect, the vampire did not rouse, instead lying limply in the teacher's arms.

"Come on," Alaric repeated, splashing the tip of Damon's tongue with the blood as he gently squeezed the red fluid into his mouth.

The look of the dark veins appearing under the injured vampire's eyes came as a relief to Alaric as he continued to feed Damon. He had gotten two bags worth of blood into him before Damon's blue eyes flashed open to meet him. At the sight of them, the teacher smiled, his hands, sticky with blood spilled, falling limply to his lap.

"Ric?" Damon surveyed his surroundings as he wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. He'd been here for sure, this much he knew. Though, in his disorientation, he did not recognize at first where he was and he looked to the teacher for confirmation.

"Relax, Damon. You're in my apartment."

Suddenly the memory of the night's events came rushing back to Damon. Entering the Lockwood cellar, finding the cave, the pain of the stakes burying into his abdomen, watching Mason disappear before he could help. The last thing the vampire could clearly recall was fumbling with his phone in the dark as he tried desperately to contact someone. Anyone that could have come to help him. Damon's eyes, still glazed over, settled upon Alaric's face. The teacher watched him with a forehead creased in concern. The vampire tilted upward the corners of his lips into what he could muster of a smile, something of a 'thank you' to the teacher for his aid. As it seemed, Alaric understood, and nodded as he picked up another blood bag.

"Here, drink this." The teacher yawned as he watched the vampire tear open the bag with shaky hands.

"I see you found my cooler." Damon said between sips.

Alaric rolled his eyes. "How did you even sneak that in there?"

Damon shrugged, taking a long, deep draught before answering. "It's only fair. You keep your vampire murder weapons in my car, I keep blood in your pantry."

Alaric sighed, getting up. "I guess that's fair."

Damon finished off the blood bag before he tossed the empty plastic to the floor, watching Alaric closely as he moved from his seat next to him. The vampire swallowed slowly. He felt sick, but the pain from his torso was getting to be unbearable, and the vampire knew all too well that blood alone could banish it. Shifting as much as he dared, Damon looked down at his body, taking a hand to the bleeding holes in his abdomen. He hissed at the contact.

"That's not good." The vampire mumbled.

"Why aren't those healing?" Alaric asked, returning with a roll of bandages, a pair of scissors, and a bowl of soapy water with a small white rag floating in its midst.

Damon eyed him, "Vervain." The vampire bit out. "There was vervain on the stakes."

The teacher nodded as he took a seat on the table once more, "Well, you're getting blood all over my couch."

The vampire lifted his brow, glancing down once at the soiled cushions before allowing his head to fall back on the arm of the couch. "You need new furniture anyway. I feel like I'm in a funeral home."

"What do you know about funeral homes? You're a vampire."

"I have been around for a long time. I have had to watch a lot of people die, Ric."

"Yeah? How many of those were your own victims?" Alaric raised his eyebrows.

"More than I'd care to admit." Damon smirked.

"I'm sure." Alaric said, rising once again to make his way to the sink.

"Would you sit still? You're making my head spin." Damon groaned, but the teacher ignored him.

For, by the time Alaric had turned on the sink to wash the blood from his hands, there had come a knock from the door.

"Elena's here." The teacher said, suppressing a snort at the comical display of surprise that came upon the vampire's face.

 **A/N:** We are nearing our destination, dear reader. Your reviews, follows, and favorites have been most pleasing. As always however, my greed compels me to request more. Honor our deal, reader, and you shall have more of the chapters you seek.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

 **Disclaimer:** Nothing is owned, only borrowed.

 **Summary:** Set after 3x07. The ghosts from the other side have returned to Mystic Falls and desperate to find a means of killing Klaus to free Stefan from his compulsion, Damon is eager to follow deceased werewolf Mason into the Lockwood Cellar. However, when trouble inevitably finds him, Damon is left with no choice but to ask for help from the people he can only hope still care about him.

Hurt!Damon. Delena if you squint. Damon and Alaric friendship.

 **Warnings:** Moderately graphic description of injury.

Chapter 7

At the sight of Damon's prone form on the couch, Elena gasped, the tips of her slender fingers brushing just over the tender skin of baby pink lips as her hand flew instinctively upward in her surprise.

"Damon, what happened?" the girl took her place near to his side, palms hovering just over his wounds as she examined them.

The vampire winced as he shifted away from her, as if for fear that the mere centimeters between her hand and his torso, for even the slightest fault of movement, would turn to contact.

"I tripped." Damon said, his tone was biting as a wave of misery washed over him a new.

Ignoring his comment, the girl leaned in closer, a frown drawing down her perfectly shaped eyebrows.

"Why aren't these healing?" she asked. Though she did not look up, it was clear that her words were directed at Alaric who had taken to sifting through his closet in search of another jacket to replace the one bloodied and now fallen at Damon's feet.

"Vervain on the stakes." The teacher responded, taking a darkened tan coat off a hanger and casting it over his shoulder before pulling his keys from where they were jammed in his pocket.

"Where are you off to?" Elena asked, watching the teacher inquisitively as he moved toward the door.

With his hand on the knob, Alaric answered, a hint of exasperation in his tone hidden beneath a steady note of resolve. "To retrieve _that_ _one's_ car." He said, his finger jutting out toward Damon. "I can see it in his eyes, he's been plotting to get to it since he woke up."

Elena turned toward Damon knowingly, resignedly.

The vampire shrugged. "She's my baby."

Alaric rolled his eyes, "She's a car."

"Were you really going to try and go get your car? Now? Like this?" Elena asked.

At the touch of anger in her eyes, vampire playfully averted his.

"Maybe."

"Unbelievable." Elena would have punched him had she not the presence of mind to stop herself before she hurt him further. "Immortality aside, I'm surprised you are still alive."

Damon only winked at her as he reached down to the cooler to retrieve another blood bag.

"I'll be back soon." Alaric said opening the door, "Keys over the visor?"

Damon nodded once between swallows and watched the teacher exit the loft, pulling the door closed behind him with a quiet thud.

Elena's eyes lingered on the space where Alaric had stood only moments before, before she ran a hand through her long, brown hair. She turned to Damon who now twirled the blood bag's straw slowly between the tips of his fingers.

"You are ridiculous." Elena shook her head.

"I've been called worse." Damon returned.

A silence settled over the loft, broken only by Damon's occasional slurps and eventually the tossing of the emptied blood bag to the floor where it settled near the previous two.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Damon half smiled at Elena, who seemed to have withdrawn.

"You really don't deserve him." Elena blurted before she could stop herself.

At this, Damon's icy blue eyes, now seeming colder, met her own brown, warm and open.

"Oh, Elena. Ever the tactful one. Always a comfort to have around." Damon's tone was sarcastic but his eyes pierced her like two unforgiving daggers.

"You know what I mean." Elena said, but there was no apology in her tone.

"Oh, I know what you mean." The vampire narrowed his eyes a fraction.

"Don't do that." She warned.

"Do what?"

"You know, that."

"I'm sorry, Elena." Damon said, looking tired. "You're really going to have to be more specific than _that_."

"Don't act like you're not sorry." Elena said.

Now Damon arched his brow, a controlled gesture, a mere suggestion at the muted anger slowly heating his chest.

"Even you of all people have to admit that you're in the wrong." She crossed her arms over her chest.

Damon tilted his head towards her. "First off, Elena, I _have_ to do nothing. Secondly, I think you are forgetting who I am. Remorse, lamenting, brooding, not really my thing. I believe that's Stefan's area of expertise."

For a moment, Elena did not speak, only staring at him with an expression utterly dumfounded. When Elena had driven over, she had had the full intent of telling Damon exactly how she felt about what he'd done to Alaric, especially now after the teacher had set aside their quarrel to save his life. She'd known that she'd have to approach the subject delicately, though now, in the heat of the moment and in the midst of Damon's unrelenting arrogance, Elena quickly found her composure slipping away.

 _Unbelievable,_ she thought, _utterly incorrigible._

"Wow, are you serious?" the teen, forgetting herself, shoved the vampire's arm.

"Oww!" there was fire in the vampire's eyes as he angrily jutted his chin out toward her. "What the hell, Elena?" his sentence tapered off into a sound that nearly resembled a whine.

"He saved your life, and you still can't apologize for taking his?" Elena's voice rose and her cheeks colored scarlet. "Are you truly that arrogant?"

"Elena, you need to back off." Damon warned, pushing himself up onto his elbows so that he appeared more formidable despite his weakened state.

"Back off?" Elena's mouth fell open. "You want me to back off, Damon? Are you sure? Because if I do, I don't think you're going to have anyone left at all."

Damon's mouth came open as he prepared to fire a response back at her, but the words did not come forth, and save the involuntary twitch of his eye the vampire drew still. Elena took the pause to brush the hair out of her face. The vampire seemed to shrink before her. His eyes took on a listlessness that Elena had never seen before, and as he struggled to stay propped on the couch, facing her, the girl felt a pang of remorse for speaking so harshly.

 _He needed to hear it_ , Elena shook her head, banishing the guilt.

"I hope your listening now, Damon, because in all of your one hundred and seventy six years on this planet, I don't think anyone has told you this." The girl took a seat on the table again. "It's not always the end result or a goal accomplished. It matters the road you take to achieve something. The people you touch. The people you hurt."

"Pretty words for one who can't even protect herself." His voice edged toward a snarl. "It's easy to call others monster when you're sitting pretty, benefitting from every kill I make to keep _you_ safe."

Elena shook her head. "Don't twist my words, Damon. I am grateful for everything you do for me, and I hope that you will not forget that. But, that is not what I mean and you know it."

Damon wrinkled his nose.

"This is Alaric we're talking about. He's been nothing but a friend to you, and the moment he goes against you, you just break his neck?"

"I knew he was wearing his ring." Damon defended, his rasp now seeming even rougher.

"That's not the point. You don't treat your friends like that." Elena added, "Well, you don't treat anyone like that, but that's a matter in itself."

The vampire huffed. "Yes, well you'll have to forgive me, it's not as if I've have much experience with having _friends_." Damon pursed his lips as though the word was sour in his mouth.

Elena shook her head, "Uh-uh. No way. You don't get to use that excuse anymore." She watched him arch a brow. "Because you do have people who care about you whether or not you want to admit it." She paused. "You don't have to protect yourself from us. From me."

She placed her hand on his.

"As difficult as it may be for you to believe, we are on your side."

Damon's wandering gaze found Elena's steady, and she reassured him with a comforting squeeze of his palm.

"But you have hurt Alaric. We all make mistakes, but the only way to right those wrongs is to apologize." Elena finished, her face soft.

The vampire was silent, regarding the girl with wary eyes.

"Now." Damon watched Elena as she moved the bowl of soap water into her lap and took the dripping wash cloth into her hand. "Let's get you cleaned up."

 **A/N:** Dear reader, I apologize for the delay on this chapter as I have been busy these past couple of days training to get my open water scuba license! I assure you, this was a one time thing and I will try to keep updates to every three days at the most. I hope you are enjoying the story. I have truly been blown away by the response so far. I cherish every one of you. Remember to review, follow, and favorite, and heads up for the next chapter coming soon! :)

Side note: The creepy author's notes that you have been accustomed to will return. Soon, my dear reader, very soon. *cackles maniacally*


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is owned, only borrowed.

 **Summary:** Set after 3x07. The ghosts from the other side have returned to Mystic Falls and desperate to find a means of killing Klaus to free Stefan from his compulsion, Damon is eager to follow deceased werewolf Mason into the Lockwood Cellar. However, when trouble inevitably finds him, Damon is left with no choice but to ask for help from the people he can only hope still care about him.

Hurt!Damon. Delena if you squint. Damon and Alaric friendship.

 **Warnings:** Moderately graphic description of injury.

Chapter 8

Had it not been for the painful, thin whistles of air between Damon's clenched teeth following each motion of the quickly reddening cloth over his wounds, Elena might have thought that the vampire had fallen asleep. For, she had long since ceased her efforts to engage him in even the most strained of conversations. The vampire had grown quiet, succumbing at last to his exhaustion and allowing his eyes to close in an aching respite. Though, despite the stillness and the quiet settled upon the room, Elena did not cease in her work, settling rather into the morbid routine of wringing the soiled rag over the crimson liquid in the bowl, more blood than water at this point, and with motions stiffened with reluctance, bringing it to Damon's torso.

"This isn't working." Elena sighed. Her eyes were wide with worry as she rose again, taking the bowl with her to Alaric's bathroom to change the water.

At her motion, the vampire cracked an eye open. Stoic and tight, his gaze rested on her face for only but a moment before he inspected his wounds himself, gingerly running a thumb over the edges of where the damaged skin was frayed. The bleeding had slowed, though still the flow was steady, and Damon needed not look to know that he had lost more blood than he could possibly replenish with the stock he'd stored in Alaric's loft.

"Damned vervain." He sighed, as he settled back against the pillows, listening to the sound of water rushing from the faucet as Elena filled the bowl once more.

"Shouldn't you be healing by now?" Elena's voice was soft, concerned.

The vampire tilted his head, an effortless substitution for what would have been a noncommittal shrug. "Give it a couple of hours."

Elena said nothing in return, rather she only creased her brow as she, with heavy steps, made her way over to the vampire again.

"How is the pain?" she all but mumbled, almost apologetically, as she wrung the cloth.

Damon eyed the dripping rag with a look as uneasy as he dared allow, following it until it was just close enough for the water to drip onto him, before he brought up a hand to stop its descent.

"It's fine. I'm fine. You don't need to do that anymore. It's not doing anything anyway."

Elena pressed her lips into a hard line, "You are not fine, Damon. You need-"

"What I need is a shower." The vampire cut her off as he began to shift his weight onto his elbows in an effort to rise.

Elena watched him, wincing at each painstaking motion. His movements were dreadfully slow, each eliciting a painful groan that deepened her frown until she was sure her brow was nearly resting upon the bridge of her nose.

"You shouldn't be moving around just yet." She said, eyes glued to him.

If Damon had heard her, surely he was ignoring her, instead focusing his every effort in maneuvering himself to a sitting position, biceps flexed as he braced himself against the cushions. His arms were shaking with the effort, and his breathing had shortened to a pant, though Elena knew better than to ask if he wanted any help. For she knew that while his injuries would heal, Damon's pride was another case entirely.

Damon rose slowly on infuriatingly unsteady legs, ignoring with all his might the disorienting lightness of his head as he began to step, rather limp, toward Alaric's bathroom. His clothes felt heavy, adhered to him by his own blood and sweat, and the vampire in all his years could not recall a time when he desired more but a simple bar of soap.

 _Keep moving,_ _don't stop. Keep moving, don't stop._

Every step was agony, but stronger was Damon's will. However, only so far could his mantra carry him, and it was abruptly that the vampire stopped, doubled over, halfway toward his destination.

"Damon?"

Damon could not hear Elena's voice, for too loud in his ears was the seeming throbbing of his brain against the walls of his skull.

The girl had moved closer to him, but still she kept a respectful distance. Despite every part of her advising her otherwise, Elena stood away from him, hands closed into fists at her sides and feet planted firmly into the ground. For just yet, another step she dared not take.

Damon only barely registered the feel of sweat dripping down the contours of his face, collecting in drops at the edge of his jaw, before falling heavily onto the shoulder of his jacket. His senses were dulled to a point rendered nearly useless, though despite this, nonetheless hard did the floor feel as it came rushing up to meet him.

 _Damn it._

The vampire felt his face grow hot, though for that he knew his growing fever was not alone responsible. The anticipation of feeling Elena's frantic hands on him became unbearable as he lay fallen, still as he tried to gather himself. However, the touch never came. At her absence, Damon nearly felt deprived, and as he rolled onto his back to find Elena, his eyes held a hint of confusion, only just masked beneath delirium.

Hot tears were streaming down Elena's cheeks and it seemed her fists had tightened further.

"Please let me help you." The girl's words were strangled. As it was, the sight of her friend in so much misery was simply too much for her to bear.

Damon would have liked to think that his tired nod, granting her permission to approach, was for her benefit. To make her feel as if she was not helpless, that despite her living in a town full of supernatural creatures, her efforts to help her friends still mattered. Though, as the girl crouched beside him, working her hands beneath his arms to help him rise, Damon could not ignore the notion that perhaps he did need her, maybe even in more ways than one.

"I've got you."

Damon's arm was limp as Elena draped it over her shoulders, holding firmly to his forearm as she all but dragged him the rest of the way.

The vampire could feel his energy rapidly depleting, his eyes drifting closed despite his avid effort to stay aware.

"Damon, look at me." Elena had settled the vampire on the bathroom floor, propping him up against the wall as she took his face into her hands. "I'm going to help you but you need to stay awake."

"…No problem... Not even tired." The vampire slurred, though as Elena drew away to start the water, his head lolled to the side to rest on his shoulder.

"Hey, I said stay awake." Elena nudged him gently with her foot, adjusting the knob on the shower handle so that the water was just warm enough for comfort, though still cool enough so as to provide some relief from what was undoubtedly the searing pain he was experiencing.

"Admit it, 'Lena." Damon lifted his eyes, tracking Elena's movements as she came once more to crouch before him. "You've just been waiting for an excuse to shower with me. Not that I'm complaining."

Elena would have rolled her eyes had she not been overcome by relief that while he was fading rather quickly, for the present moment at least, he was lucid enough to maintain his sense of humor.

"In your dreams, Salvatore." She took him by the shoulders, pulling him towards the shower. "Besides you're on your own from here."

Damon watched her ruefully as she rose to place her hands on her hips.

"I'm going to find you something to change into. I'm right outside the door if you _actually_ need me." She said seriously before she left him in the bathroom, drawing the door closed behind her.

For moments, Damon did not move, rather he settled for reveling in the temporary comfort he found while staring after Elena, eyes fixed steadily on the door as he listened to the patter of water against the shower's pale grey tile.

"Here goes." Damon whispered to himself at last, centering himself as he prepared for the new misery that inevitably followed even the slightest of movements.

With gritted teeth, the vampire shrugged off his jacket and previously unbuttoned shirt in one piece, unavoidably aggravating wounds still yet to close.

 _Ric is going to be pissed_ , Damon could not bring himself to smirk at the sight of all his blood splashed across the teacher's bathroom floor. For, too much was the pain of his continued motion as he worked off his leather boots followed by dark navy jeans, and still more was the realization of how much he owed the teacher. Damon almost felt guilty for tracking blood all over his loft.

 _Just get through this,_ Damon reminded himself, never pausing before he forced himself up and moved to stand beneath the water.

Despite the relatively gentle flow of the water, against his open wounds, it was a seeming barrage on his tender skin. Though, a sharp inhale was all the vampire would allow himself, and it was with a steely resolve that he reached for the bar of soap on the dish secured to the wall.

The scent of lemon mingled with the steam to rise toward Damon's face. The feeling was invigorating, the sensation of dirt and blood caked to his skin, washing away and in its stead were the white rimmed suds that suddenly meant more than they could have ever had it not been for the relentless hell he had endured that night. A blissful mix of pain and relief, Damon stood as still as he could under the stream of water, turning over the slippery block of soap in his hand, over and over if only to distract himself from the discomfort.

Damon was not sure how long he had been standing there, though when at last he worked up the will to turn the water off and step out of the shower, he found clean clothes already waiting for him. Reluctantly, the vampire reached for the towel, folded just beside, and silently hoped that Alaric did not have much attachment to such items. For, after he dried, Damon loathed to see the amount of blood staining the towel as he dropped it to the floor. For such a fabric as it was, Damon knew that even the most potent of detergents could offer no redemption.

Damon wasted no time in dressing, pulling on Alaric's dark grey sweats that Elena had laid out for him with stiff though swift motions. However, at the sight of the oversized plain, forest green shirt, still folded on the vanity, the vampire stopped, an utter refusal to bleed on and ultimately destroy another of Alaric's things.

"Elena." Damon's voice failed him. What should have been a call, loud enough at least to reach her, came out as little more than a wheeze. Nonetheless, and much to the vampire's relief, the bathroom door came open, only but a crack. It did not escape Damon's notice how Elena did not immediately peer into the bathroom, taking into consideration his privacy, and perhaps further the recognition of his possible indecency.

 _Such a rigid girl, that one._

"What do you need?" Elena's fingers were beginning to creep around the edge of the door.

"Bandages?" Exhaustion brought a sting to Damon's reddened eyes and the vampire moved to settle on the closed lid of the toilet.

"I have them. May I come in?"

There was a weight in Elena's words that banished any thoughts of jest that may have crossed the vampire's mind, and in their stead was the realization that she was trusting his discretion.

"Yes." Damon said sincerely, watching with amusement the relief on her face to discover that only his midriff remained exposed.

Carrying an armful of gauze, antiseptic, and medical tape, Elena closed the distance between them, depositing her supplies onto the counter as she kneeled beside him, coming eye level with his injuries.

"They're looking a little better." Elena said, but her words fell on deaf ears.

Damon had leaned back, eyes closed as he let his head fall forward against his chest. The last of his energy had been exhausted and he had not even the strength to respond.

Whether or not Elena spoke again, the vampire could not have told, for his consciousness had drifted elsewhere as at last he surrendered in his battle against the darkness that willingly consumed him.

 **A/N:** Hey guys, this chapter certainly took longer than I thought it would! I hope you all are enjoying so far. Please don't forget to follow, favorite, and review. I cannot even articulate how much I treasure every one of you, and I love hearing your feedback. Your reviews have kept me so motivated to keep updates frequent, and, not to mention, they are my life force.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is owned, only borrowed.

 **Summary:** Set after 3x07. The ghosts from the other side have returned to Mystic Falls and desperate to find a means of killing Klaus to free Stefan from his compulsion, Damon is eager to follow deceased werewolf Mason into the Lockwood Cellar. However, when trouble inevitably finds him, Damon is left with no choice but to ask for help from the people he can only hope still care about him.

Hurt!Damon. Delena if you squint. Damon and Alaric friendship.

 **Warnings:** Moderately graphic description of injury.

 **A/N:** In all honesty, I don't have an excuse for why this chapter is late. However, I have almost completed the rest of the story, so updates should be more frequent. Thank you for your patience. And, as always, thanks for reading.

Chapter 9

Damon's head rested against Elena's forearm as she rocked him forward, her lips pursed while she used her free hand to wrap the pale white bandages around his abdomen. Their pattern was not uniform, the gauze winding up his body haphazardly. Thus, several layers did it take before his wounds were covered in full. Taking only but a brief moment to survey her work, Elena wasted no time in working Alaric's oversized shirt over his head and carefully maneuvering his arms through the sleeves, whose hems nearly reached his elbows. Swallowed by the bagginess of the clothes, Elena couldn't help but smile at the look of him. Like a child while he slept, his face was peaceful, the hardened lines telling of what anger and frustration brewed behind those bright, blue eyes had all but vanished in his slumber. It was for this that Elena was reluctant to disturb him, but nonetheless her desire to simply admire him gave way to better judgement. Her hand was heavy as she brought it to his face, lifting his chin only a fraction.

"Damon," Elena's voice was quiet, soothing as she ran her thumb gently over his cheek. "Come on, we've got to move. You can't stay here. You need to rest."

Bleary blue eyes opened to look unfocusedly at her.

"No... We're good right here… Just like this."

Elena smiled softly as she leaned forward, bringing her forehead forward to press against his, warm with fever.

"No, Damon." She moved closer to the vampire, shifting him in her arms so that his head fell just beneath her chin to rest against her chest. "You need to lie down."

The teenager's voice trailed off as her gaze shifted down to Damon, nuzzled so close against her. His gaze wandered over her carotid artery, throbbing just beneath her milky skin. Though, no darkened veins to tell of his temptation appeared beneath his eyes. Rather, he only turned his face downward so the bridge of his nose pressed against her clavicle, his eyelashes dancing against the collar of the lavender shirt she wore.

 _He resisted,_ Elena thought.

The Damon she had met only last year, seemingly so long ago, would have torn into her without a thought had he been presented the chance. And so, it was almost with a sense of pride that she studied the vampire slumped in her arms. For, she would have liked to think that she could claim the credit, at least to some degree, for his change of character. But perhaps, it was something of a consolation to herself, the thought that by gaining his trust, and in turn placing hers in him, she was not the only one to have begun seeing things in a new light.

Elena breathed against Damon's dark locks, still damp from his shower, and she smiled. He smelled like lemon.

"Elena." A whisper just at the bathroom door startled the girl, and her gaze shot up so she peered over the vanity to look upon the arrival.

Alaric held his hands up in surrender, an apology for scaring her found in his sheepish look, only fleeting, for it was soon replaced by a heavier expression of concern.

"How is he doing?"

"Better. He wanted a shower." Elena began to move away, though still a hand remained planted on the vampire's shoulder should his posture betray his injury.

Alaric nodded shortly, "He needs to rest."

"He can hear you." Damon snipped, looking longingly at Elena as she stepped back to make room for Alaric.

"I got your car back, man." Alaric said as he slipped an arm beneath Damon's knees and another behind his shoulders as he made to carry him out of the bathroom, seeming smaller occupied by three. "You're right, she is a beauty."

"Oh god, not you too," Elena groaned from behind, holding out a hand to hover just beneath Damon's head as Alaric balanced his weight in his arms.

"Got that right." Damon mumbled. "Better not have scratched her."

The teacher huffed a laugh, "I didn't, under fear of death."

Alaric might have thought that the vampire's lack of reply could be attributed to his fatigue, though a wince from Elena reminded him of their circumstances. In the midst of all the chaos the night had brought, Alaric had forgotten his anger, though as it appeared, Damon had not.

"Sorry." Alaric broke the silence that had settled upon the loft. "Bad joke."

Elena shook her head and moved in front of them, standing in the center of the loft surveying the room for a place for her friend to lie.

"We can't put him back on the couch." Elena said, her nose wrinkling at the stains that had rendered the cushions beyond salvation.

"Please don't." the vampire swiveled his head to look at each of his companions with a pleading expression.

"We're not." Elena nodded toward the far wall of the loft. "Bed?"

Alaric nodded at her, and began toward it, his eagerness to relinquish his burden apparent in the vigor of his step. Truly, the effort to keep the vampire as still as possible, yet balanced so as not to jostle him, was putting a strain on Alaric's back that he knew would likely leave him a touch of soreness.

Damon had once more fallen unconscious as Alaric deposited him on the bed, drawing the pearl white comforter up to his chin. Alaric allowed a pause before looking to Elena.

"You can leave. I will look after him." he said, turning his back on the resting vampire and moving to place a hand on the girl's shoulder.

"I am not leaving."

"I though you would say that." The teacher sighed. "Look, Elena. Really you are supposed to be on your way to school, it's almost eight o'clock. However, seeing as you have had a stressful night to say the least, I'm going to advise you to just go home and sleep it off."

"I can't leave Damon."

"Elena you have done wonders to help him, but now you need to take care of yourself."

"I can't leave him." The girl's voice was firm, but Alaric could see from the red rims of her eyes that she was tired. She had to be. Preoccupation with Damon's wellbeing and undoubtedly a boost of adrenaline had at last given way to basic human need, and the sleep deprivation was beginning to take its toll.

"Believe me, if I could, I would tell you to just crash on the couch, but seeing as Dracula behind me has destroyed it, I am asking you to please go home and rest."

Elena's eyes fell to the floor and she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear before she crossed her arms over her chest. She was nothing if not stubborn. After all, she was a Gilbert.

"I'm not going to kick you out, but I would be happy if you would take my advice for once." Alaric said.

Truly, Elena was exhausted. She had reached that stage of fatigue where her consciousness was being infiltrated by the tempting thought of diving into bed and hiding beneath the covers without a thought of emerging. But, behind the teacher that stood before her, she could see the ashen face of a wounded vampire, utterly helpless in his current state. There was within her a feeling that she needed to protect him. For, she feared that now he could not defend himself, and with a track record like his in a town full of vengeful vampires, it seemed that there could be nothing more for him than danger should she leave.

"Don't worry about Damon." Alaric's voice interrupted Elena's thoughts and her brown eyes met his own knowing. "I'm going to take care of him. I already called in a sub at the high school."

Elena was silent, and the teacher sighed is resignation, recognition that he was fighting a battle that he could not win.

"Are you sure you don't need me to help with anything? Does he need anything else?"

"Elena, don't worry about anything. I'm going to call Caroline to bring some blood from the boarding house."

Elena sighed, her gaze lingering on Damon's form as she at last acquiesced. "Do you promise to call me if you need anything, or if anything changes?"

"I'll have you on speed dial." Alaric smiled, victorious, turning her towards the door.

"Okay." Elena said, allowing the teacher to usher her out. The sun had nearly come up.

"Thank you, Alaric." Elena said, fiddling with her car keys as she stepped out into the morning air.

Alaric smiled and shook his head, "Hey, that's what I'm here for."

Elena nodded gently before turning to leave, aware of the teacher still leaning against the door frame as she made her way to her car.

"Oh, and Ric," Elena called before ducking into the driver's seat. "Don't invite any psycho homicidal vampires into the loft."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Alaric replied.

 **A/N:** You tire of my delays do you, Reader? I am only but a humble ghoul, you must realize. Be patient with me, I implore you. For, I will honor our agreement. Your reviews, follows, and favorites, for what chapters I may grant you. Though, be warned, check your anger. While I work to meet your demand, remember that I may falter. Inconsistency is only my nature.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is owned, only borrowed.

 **Summary:** Set after 3x07. The ghosts from the other side have returned to Mystic Falls and desperate to find a means of killing Klaus to free Stefan from his compulsion, Damon is eager to follow deceased werewolf Mason into the Lockwood Cellar. However, when trouble inevitably finds him, Damon is left with no choice but to ask for help from the people he can only hope still care about him.

Hurt!Damon. Delena if you squint. Damon and Alaric friendship.

 **Warnings:** Moderately graphic description of injury.

Chapter 10

Alaric held a finger to his lips as he opened the door wider, ushering Caroline into the loft. The blonde was carrying a plain white plastic bag, though through it the teacher could still see the maroon tint of the blood bags contained within.

"Just put it over there." Alaric whispered, occasionally glancing over his shoulder at Damon, anticipating the sight of a wide eyed vampire, just awakened. Although, save the steady rise and fall of his chest hidden beneath the plush downy cover cast over him, Damon was unmoving.

Caroline tread lightly, controlling her footfalls as she stepped into the living space.

"Is this all his blood?" Caroline's eyebrows flew upward, and she turned quickly to the teacher who stood behind her.

"Quiet, he's sleeping," Alaric reminded before nodding soberly.

The blonde grimaced and caught herself looking to where Damon lay. It seemed strange to her to see the vampire like this before her, so utterly vulnerable. Since the Salvatores had come to Mystic Falls, she had only grown accustomed to the Damon that was abrasive, prone to bouts of violence, quick to anger, quicker still to retaliate, and unrelentingly sarcastic. To see him now in such a way thus worried her in a way she could not describe, almost as if she had come to care for him.

"Do you need help cleaning up?" Caroline mouthed, turning her gaze back to the teacher's.

Alaric only shook his head. "I have to stay with him anyway, might as well have something to keep me occupied. I don't think he'll be waking any time soon."

The teen nodded, though her expression of worry persisted.

"Do you need anything?"

"No, just the blood is all. Thanks." Alaric whispered.

The teacher began moving toward the kitchen to gather a bucket and ammonia from where they were stored beneath the sink.

"I'm going to go then. If you need anything, more blood, some food, just give me a call. I'll be around."

Alaric nodded his thanks and watched Caroline leave before setting to work cleaning the space he was determined to make livable again.

The smell of the cleaner was strong, potent, stinging his sinuses as he scrubbed, though Alaric's other senses stayed keen, anticipating a shuffle that told of Damon's stirring, perhaps even an indication of an unwanted guest. He unconsciously glanced at the crossbow positioned at the door, defense should any unwanted visitors turn up at the loft. Alaric huffed. There was a time in his life when he would have laughed at anyone who would even consider such a notion, but things were different now. In a town full of vampires, werewolves, and originals, one of whom was tearing through the town creating hybrids, truly there could be no norms.

Alaric's fingers ached with the motion of the scrubbing brush in his hand, scraping against the floor to lift away the blood that had long since oxygenated and dried to crust over the wood. In a brief respite, the teacher looked up at Damon who seemed to have shifted slightly, rolling only just to favor his left side. In a word, Alaric might have put it that his life had taken a turn for the unconventional, though still he could imagine it no other way.

 **A/N:** There you guys have it, another chapter. Surprisingly, I had some difficulty deciding what I was going to do with this one. I hope you liked it, however. I would love to hear what you think. Please leave a review if you feel so inclined,and as always, thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is owned, only borrowed.

 **Summary:** Set after 3x07. The ghosts from the other side have returned to Mystic Falls and desperate to find a means of killing Klaus to free Stefan from his compulsion, Damon is eager to follow deceased werewolf Mason into the Lockwood Cellar. However, when trouble inevitably finds him, Damon is left with no choice but to ask for help from the people he can only hope still care about him.

Hurt!Damon. Delena if you squint. Damon and Alaric friendship.

 **Warnings:** Moderately graphic description of injury.

Chapter 11

The room seemed unbearably hot, nearly stifling. It was for this, that Damon had little inclination to open his eyes even when he'd awakened at last. The comforter previously covering him had been cast off, a heap concealing only his feet, and damp in some places from the sweat that had poured off him in his restless sleep. With a grimace, the vampire twisted to lie on his stomach.

"Damon?"

Footsteps within the loft, though muffled through the pillow Damon pressed his face to, seemed agonizingly loud to the vampire, still befuddled by the lingering haze of sleep.

 _I don't care if a plague has descended on this miserable town, I am not rising from this spot,_ Damon resolved to himself, but the practicality of his silent declaration diminished when the heartbeat of his companion, who he had yet to lift his head to identify, became clearly audible in their proximity.

The vampire knew it was only a matter of time before a hand, heavy with concern, would find its way to rest on his shoulder, pure in intentions, but nonetheless bothersome. To gather his bearings, Damon once again replayed the night's events in his head, the consistency of the memories grounding him with each fleeting image: meeting Mason at the Lockwood cellar, the agony of impalement, then Alaric, the loft, and Elena.

 _Elena._

The gentle touch of her skin against his as she'd dressed his wounds had done far more for him than any amount of gauze and antiseptic could ever.

"You awake?"

A whisper to his right compelled Damon to turn his head, and bleary eyes cracked open to survey its source. The vampire blinked to see Alaric, standing just beyond the kitchen island, armed with a tall glass of what Damon knew to be blood. Dark veins appeared at once beneath hardened blue eyes, for in his state utterly bereft of the substance he so desperately needed, no display of conditioned control could quell his instinct, stimulated at the blood's potent odor. Damon was hungry.

Blinded by his need, Damon hardly felt his fangs extend, nor did he hear the growl erupt from his throat as he shot up out of bed at inhuman speed to meet the teacher where he stood. Alaric jumped at the suddenness of the movement, and Damon smiled, running his tongue over the sharpened tips of his teeth. He could hear the enticing rush of blood through the teacher's veins as his heartbeat involuntary quickened, and at once the glass was forgotten. In that moment, any form of rational thought was overcome by what could only be described as bloodlust.

"Damon, stop." Alaric's voice was steady, yet still he took a lengthy, but nonetheless involuntary, stride backward from the vampire.

Damon persisted, stalking forward, predatory movements telling that he had absolutely no intention of stalling. For, a burn of fury that inevitably followed a vampire's commencement of a hunt, heightened further by what could only be deemed famishment, had all but overcome him. Truly, Damon did not see his friend, nor did he hear the fear creeping into his voice. At that moment, there was the blood, and that was all.

"Damon, you have to think." Alaric had abandoned the glass he'd held in his haste to move away, and the pair had since begun to circle each other.

"Control it."

Alaric's pace quickened to match Damon's fervor. The teacher had not much time. For, he knew well that had Damon wished it, he would have already be dead, drained, lying lifeless on the floor of his own home. Because, realistically, there was no way he could be evading, much less outrunning, Damon, despite the vampire's wounds, that, judging by the crimson beginning to seep through the fabric on the front of his shirt, had been torn open anew. At once, then, the teacher realized that Damon was hunting.

"You have to fight this." Alaric all but shouted at the vampire as he wildly threw his gaze around the loft, searching for a means with which to defend himself.

In his pressing instinct to survive, driving his avid search for a weapon, everything within the loft at once seemed that much more useless. Of all the time he spent fighting vampires, it appeared that not a single weapon was within reach. The notion settled heavily upon Alaric's chest, and his breath, corrupted by panic, quickened still. Though no sooner than he felt his face begin to burn with worry, did he find a solution, rather an escape, catching sight of the crossbow that still leaned against the door.

"Think Damon, think."

The last words were tossed carelessly over his shoulder as Alaric bolted toward where the weapon was set, though before he had it in his grasp, the teacher felt to rough hands seize his shoulders with such a force that he could not help but follow their motion.

As he was turned, Alaric could not keep his face from falling at the sight of the vampire that held him. Bloodshot eyes stared into him, set into an ashen face tracked with veins that grew with every flash of fangs. A crooked smile revealed just the points of the vampire's teeth, vicious and glinting in the low light of the loft. This, Alaric knew, was not Damon. Rather it seemed that his demon had overcome him.

 **A/N:** At long last, dear reader, I give you what you've been promised. I thank you for your patience, but the deal is ever the deal. Your reviews, follows, favorites, for another chapter. I swear I will not tarry again with my delivery.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is owned, only borrowed.

 **Summary:** Set after 3x07. The ghosts from the other side have returned to Mystic Falls and desperate to find a means of killing Klaus to free Stefan from his compulsion, Damon is eager to follow deceased werewolf Mason into the Lockwood Cellar. However, when trouble inevitably finds him, Damon is left with no choice but to ask for help from the people he can only hope still care about him.

Hurt!Damon. Delena if you squint. Damon and Alaric friendship.

 **Warnings:** Moderately graphic description of injury.

Chapter 12

Alaric held a hand tightly to the bleeding wound on his neck as he stumbled away from Damon, his free hand groping for the edge of the kitchen island for support, before he all but collapsed onto a bar stool. The teacher groaned, gently lifting his hand away from his injury long enough to catch a glimpse of his palm, skin thoroughly coated with an even layer of fresh blood.

The bite of a vampire was as painful as Ric had imagined it would be. From the moment Damon's fangs had pierced his skin, to when the vampire was torn away, the sensation was a hurt utterly beyond description.

"Shit." Alaric hissed as he shifted again, tearing his hand away for a moment to press a rag against the wound with his other.

His body felt heavier as he rose, his steps uncoordinated as he dragged toward the bathroom, where he knew Elena had left the first aid kit. Crashing against the vanity, the teacher studied his reflection. Blood bathed the front of his shirt, and an ever slowing, but nonetheless heavy, stream of blood seeped through the crevices of his fingers to further drench his clothes.

"This is not going to cut it."

The teacher scowled at the measly roll of gauze left on the granite. Hardly enough remained for him, never mind the vampire just beyond the bathroom's doorframe, collapsed once more for the pain of his injuries, both old and fresh.

 _I can't do this myself._

Alaric sighed, defeated. A frown had again found his tired face, ever deepening as he reached for his phone.

The dial tones were mocking, each a jeer at the teacher's inability to take care of himself, let alone a friend in need.

"Hello?"

"Elena," Alaric gritted his teeth, "If you really aren't busy, we could use your help over at the loft."

 **A/N:** I hope you guys are enjoying this story. Please, please don't forget to leave a review and tell me what you think. Happy Holidays!


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